


Speaking French in America

by eternally_done



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Français | French, Modern Era, They're still French though, United States, age gap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 08:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14374818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternally_done/pseuds/eternally_done
Summary: After moving from France to the United States, Cosette finds herself feeling isolated due to her bad English skills. When she meets someone else from France who coincidentally has a lot more in common with her than country of origin, she immediately develops a crush on him. The only problem? He's old enough to be her dad and is her teacher.





	1. La première partie

 

M. Javert had been teaching Cosette Fauchlevent's World History and Criminology classes for two months when she realized she was developping a crush on him. He had taken over for a sick treacher gone on leave a few months after Cosette had started at the school. Everyone had loved the teacher who left, but Cosette had always found her classes to almost be too lax. Hardly anyone liked M. Javert, but Cosette adored his class. However, as much as she loved his classes, she found that she would walk into his class, sit down, stare at him for a bit, and then the bell would ring. She had always thought 45 minutes was a ridiculously short period, but know it seemed as if the classes were barely 4 minutes long. Although the curriculum in the world history class had nothing to do with the law more often than not, he would always find a way to get it involved. The rumours going around said that M. Javert was an undocover policeman from France, hunting down a dangerous fugitive. Cosette would normally laugh at these sorts of rumours, but it this case it almost seemed plausible. Although he spoke marvelous English, his french accent was undeniable. He had a certain knowledge of the working of police forces that seemed beyond that of an oridnary civilian.

Of course, rumours were only rumours. Cosette wasn't silly enough to believe them. After being the new kid four times in her life, she had had her fair share of rumours spread about her. It had now been almost a year since sh'ed arrived in the United States. After leaving her Catholic school in a convent back in France, she'd gone to public school for a bit, before her father announced that they were moving to the US. It had been completely out of the blue, but she hadn't minded all that much. She'd been going to school in Paris for a grand total of two months, and really attached to anyone or anything yet. Cosette scribbled down the rest of the notes from the board. Oddly enough, they were studying the French Revoloution. Cosette already knew everything that was being taught, and she found it tremendously boring.

Factions Split France:

-Debt, food shortages remain

-Country split into Radicals, Moderates, Conservatives

Cosette sighed and decided she didn't care about the émigrés et the sans-culottes enough to write down who they were. She put her notebook in her bag and continued to listen to Javert's voice. She could hear his accent becoming more and more prominent as he talked about the French. She sympathized with him, thinking of how her classmates nagging her to say something in french when she first arrived, and how it would sometimes throw her accent off for the rest of the period. Considering everyone else completely butchered the pronunciation of French words, it was a welcome change to hear someone pronounce them correctly. She listened to the ups and the downs of his voice and appreciated his accent, getting stronger by the minute, when a loud buzzer cut him off. Cosette sat at her desk in a daze until she realized the rest of her classmates had left. Noticing that there was nobody entering the classroom for the next period, she deciding to finally try and talk to M. Javert. She got up and walked over to his desk.

"Monsieur Javert," She said, "You French, aren't you?" He looked up from his work and stared at he for a moment. Cosette began to wonder if she had said something wrong.

"Yes. Why do you ask?" He responded.

"I though it might interest you to know that I am French. I moved here around the start of December from Paris."

"Tu devrais parler plus en classe, j'aurais entendu ton accent." He said.  _You should talk more in class, I'd have been able to hear your accent._

"Avez-vous déjà eu l'expérience de parler avec quelqu'un avec un accent plus fort que le vôtre et vous pouvez entendre votre accent qui deviens de plus en plus pire? C'est pour ça que j'ai peur." Cosette replied.  _Have you ever been talking with someone who's accent was much stronger than yours and could hear your own accent getting worse and worse? That's what I'm afraid of._

"Nous devrons parler une autre fois, j'aimerais entendre ce-qu'un autre français fait en Amerique."  _We should talk sometime, I'd like to know what another Frenchman's doing in America._

"I honestly have no idea." Said Cosette. By now, her French felt effortless. It was nice to have someone to talk to other that her Papa. English was always getting easier, but it slipping back into her native french felt like letting her hair down and changing into sweatpants at the end of a long day.

"Really?" Javert asked.

"Yep. I sat down for dinner one day and my dad said I had to pack up my things that weekend because we were moving here. He never did tell me why?"

"What does your father do?"

"Oh, let me see. He was a gardener for quite a few years, but left that job last spring. I'm not entirely sure what he does now, he doesn't really like to talk about those sorts of things."

"I see," Said Javert. He seemed to be thinking about something, but didn't press the issue. "How do you find the states so far? I'm afraid I haven't lived here for long, so I don't have too many opinions yet."

"It's fine here. I'd rather be in France and if they speak anything in hell, it's English, but apart from that things are good."

"English certainly is the devil's language."

By the time the bell rang, Cosette could have sworn she'd gone through every irritating homophone and homonym, synonym that doubled as an antonym, antonym that doubled as a synonym, and just about everything else that she hated about the English language. She also felt happier than she had in a long time, and walked to her fifth period class with a sort of spring in her steps.

The next day, Cosette was in a particularly good mood. She had slept well and woken up on time. Her homework was all finished, and on top of that, she was wearing a new sundress that had pockets. She walked into World History, humming a song that her father used to sing, and sat down at her desk. Across the room, Javert was sitting at his desk, looking over some papers that his students had handed in yesterday. Cosette debated going to talk to him, but decided against it as students were starting to fill the room, and class was about to start. She took out her notebook, and looked over her half finished notes from the day before on the French Revolution.

She watched Javert write out today's notes on the board.

"Jacobins Take Control:" The board read.

"Jacobins=radical political organization behind 1792 governmental changes

-After a close vote, Louis XVI is found guilty of treason and beheaded."

Cosette found Javert's handwriting to be lovely. He wrote in italic cursive, and each one of his letters were exactly the same. His writing conveyed the same sort of perfect order as the man himself.

"Guillotine=machine designed during the revolution to behead people" Javert wrote. Cosette had never thought the word guillotine could look so lovely.

After the class was finished, Cosette went to talk to Javert again. She pulled at her dress a bit, trying to make it look as flattering as possible.

For the last fifteen minutes of class, they had been working on questions from the textbook and Javert had been reading some sort of document. One thing that Cosette had notice about Javert in the last two months was that once he was focused on something, he seemed to forget that rest of the world existed. She stood there for a moment, waiting for him to notice that she was there. After a couple seconds, Cosette took a deep breath.

"I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed our conversations yesterday. It's been so long since I've spoken French with anyone other than my father. "She said in French, before realizing a way that he could interpret her comment. "I mean I enjoyed our conversations as well. I don't mean to say that I only liked talking to you because you speak French."

Javert said nothing. Cosette wanted to kick herself over her botched attempt at conversation. She picked up her bag and began to leave the classroom. Once Cosette was halfway out the door, Javert fianlly spoke.

"Who's your teacher next period, Cosette? I'll write you a note." 


	2. La deuxième partie

Cosette and Javert had fallen into a strange sort of routine that went something like this: Cosette would attend her world history class, stay after for the majority of her fourth period chatting about various subjects, including but not limited to the atrocities of the English language, French history, American history, the prison system, criminal profiling, forensics, and everything wrong with the United States of America, after which Javert would write Cosette a note for her French class. After her last class, with happened to criminology with Javert, Cosette often found herself unconsciously walking alongside him, missing her turn and winding up in front of Javert's apartment. After this had happened three times, he finally asked her if she wanted to come in.

The first thing she noticed about his apartment was that there wasn't much in it. The main room was small, the kitchen, dining room, and living room weren't separated out as they often were in bigger houses. There were three doors in the apartments, one leading outside of the apartment, one leading onto a balcony, and one leading to what Cosette assumed was Javert's bedroom. There wasn't a lot of furniture, nor were there many signs of the place being lived in.

"Do you drink coffee?" Cosette jumped at Javert's voice, startled.

"I have been known to drink coffee on occasion. Why do you ask?" Cosette responded.

"I was going to make coffee. I don't really have anything else except water, so you'd be out of luck if you didn't." He said, starting to make coffee.

Cosette couldn't think of a response, so she put her school bag on the floor and sat down on the couch. After a few minutes, Javert sat down across from her. He had taken his sweater off and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. His choices in clothing had always seemed rather uptight, but this casualness suited him, Cosette thought to herself. His hair was starting to grey, but not so much that he looked like an old man, but enough that it brought out the silver in his eyes. Cosette sighed. Teenage boys had nothing on him.

"You never did tell me what you're doing in the United States, Javert." Said Cosette, breaking the silence.

"Oh, I supposed I didn't." He responded.

"That was a question." Said Cosette, after a short pause.

"If it was a question, you should have phrased it as such." Said Javert.

"If you don't want to tell me what you're doing here, it's fine. You've been dancing around the subject the last couple days, that's all." Said Cosette. "You know, there's a rumor going around that you work for the DGSE or something, and you're hunting down a French criminal. Of course, they didn't call it the Direction générale de la sécurité extérieure, they said French CIA, because what American bothers to inform themselves on foreign affairs. I could just choose to believe that."

Javert laughed. "You should now that rumors are never to be trusted."

"I know. There's actually a rumor going around that I'm in a similar situation, as well as one saying that I'm a French princess, despite the revolution being a little more than a long time ago."

"I have heard that you're a French princess. Bored students will think up all sorts of things. Hell, I've even heard we're having an affair."

Cosette blushed. Of all the rumours she wished were true.

"Well to be fair, even in France the amount of time we spend together would be suspicious. Not that people have any business gossiping about who's sleeping in who's bed. Honestly, it doesn't matter what country you're in or what language you're speaking. People can never just mind their business." She said.

Javert took a sip of his coffee and looked very awkward.

"Not that there's anything happening between in the first place." He finally said.

"Yes, of course. Obviously. I wouldn't- I wasn't implying- anyways, what are you doing in the United States?" Cosette asked.

"Teaching high school." He replied. "Don't look at me like that, you didn't elaborate too much on your reason for being here either."

"It's not my fault my father never talks about anything of importance. Did I tell you, the night he told me we were leaving, I asked him why, and he said he'd tell me later. You know how many times I've asked him that and gotten the same response? I'm not sure myself, I stopped counting after eleven." Cosette said.

"How's your relationship with your father?" Javert asked.

"Oh, overall it's good. It's just that he's allergic to talking about anything. It's always oh, the weather's nice today, and how's the book you're reading, or what have you been learning in school. I'm still a little girl in his mind, and I know fifteen isn't all that old, but I'm not a baby and he needs to wrap his mind around that. Does that make sense or do you think I'm just being silly?"

"I think it makes perfect sense. While this may not apply to all of your peers, most fifteen year olds are capable of rational thought. You deserve to know what you're doing in a country where you barely speak the language. How about your mother, is she around?"

"She died when I was young. I actually don't remember too much about my childhood. I lived with a foster family when I was really young, but I don't remember too much, just that it wasn't a very good situation. Papa rescued me sometime after my mother died, they were friends. I suppose I knew her when I was a baby, but I don't remember anything about her. Her name was Fantine, and that she went through a lot for me, but Papa doesn't really like to talk about her."

Something that looked like recognition flicked across Javert's face, but it was gone so quickly that Cosette wasn't sure if she'd imagined it or not.

"I'm sorry about your mother. I never really knew mine, so I guess we have that in common."

"Not the happiest thing in common, but it's something I suppose." Said Cosette.

*****

The fourth time Cosette went to Javert's apartment after school she brought cookies. She had made them the night before, the first time she had used any of her home economics education from her catholic school since she left. She had tested out a few cookies, and was surprised that they hadn't turned out half bad.

"I brought cookies." Said Cosette, placing the tin of the coffee table. "And I detest baking, so you had better appreciate them."

Javert took one of the cookies out of the tin and bit into it.

"They're not too bad." He said. "If you hate baking so much, where did you learn to make cookies?"

"I went to a super conservative all-girls catholic school in a convent from 8ème to 4ème. Naturally, home economics was a part of the curriculum. To be honest, I haven't baked anything since I left.

"Are you Catholic?" Javert asked.

"I guess I'm religious, but certainly not to the degree that my father is."

"Ah. I'm not very religious myself, to be honest."

"That's fair. To each their own is what I always say." Said Cosette

Sometimes Cosette would bring her homework or study for whatever tests she had coming up. Javert would sit next to her and grade papers or read. Cosette would occasionally asks a question or comment on something she was studying, or Javert would say something about the stupidity of his students. Apart from that, there wasn't that much that needed to be said. Cosette found these afternoons where she and Javert would sit next to each other in comfortable silence, sipping coffee or eating cookies to be very peaceful. Sometimes she would sit closer to him than others. Sometimes she would reach out to touch his hand while doing something, but overthink everything and pull her hand back towards herself.

There were days when Cosette thought her crush on him would drive her insane. There were other days when she felt like nothing could be better than being in love, whether he liked her back or not. It was two weeks before summer break, and Cosette was very much feeling the latter. This Saturday, Cosette was headed over to Javert's house. It was so nice out that Cosette had decided to walk through the forest, and had been picking wildflowers and tucking them into her braids as she walked. She had made a decision in the forest, and that decision was to make her feelings for Javert known.

Once she arrived, Cosette stood awkwardly in the kitchen for a moment, not sure how to go through with her plan of revealing her crush.

"I brought sugar cookies." Is what she ended up saying, while gesturing to the bag she was carrying with her.

Cosette set the sugar cookies on the kitchen counter and took a deep breath.

"There's something I need to tell you." She said. Cosette could feel her heart beating faster and faster, and she felt very light all of a sudden.  _Spit it out,_ Cosette said to herself. _Spit it out before your nerves get the better of you._

"I-" Cosette began, before cutting herself off.

Javert looked mildly confused. No, he looked very confused, and possibly concerned for Cosette's well being.

"Are you okay?" Javert asked, stepping closer to Cosette.

Cosette took another deep breath and prayed that her heart rate would slow.

"I'm sorry about this." Said Cosette.

And with that, she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against Javert's.

In the romance novels that had been so popular at the convent, the heroines would always say that time slowed down when they and their beloved finally kissed. Cosette did not find this true at all. Her heart was still racing, much to her dismay, and her feet hurt from standing on her toes. She felt a little light headed, probably from the lack of air, and Cosette realized that both she and Javert could use some chapstick. It was wonderful. Cosette felt as if she was dreaming the most amazing dream she had ever dreamt, and she never wanted to wake up.

When Cosette finally broke the kiss, Javert stared at her with a horrified expression and before walking out his out his front door.

_Putain_ , Cosette thought to herself.  _Putain de bordel de merde._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's Excerpt from Cosette Fauchlevent's Planner
> 
> Liste à faire:  
> -Acheter plus de sucre  
> -Cuire des biscuits de sucre  
> -Finir mon dissertation de To Kill a Mockingbird pour Mme. Carrol  
> -Finir mes devoirs de maths  
> -Aller au biblio publique

**Author's Note:**

> Today's Excerpt From Cosette Fauchelevant's Planner
> 
> Bloc 1 - 7:50 à 8:40 - Géométrie - Mme. Smith
> 
> Bloc 2 - 8:44 à 9:29 - Biologie - Mme. Lee
> 
> Bloc 3 - 9:33 à 10:18 - Histoire mondiale - M. Javert
> 
> Bloc 4 - 10:22 à 11:07 - Français - Mme. Harrison
> 
> Bloc 5 - 11:11 à 11:56 - Drame - Mlle. Garcia
> 
> Bloc 6 - 12:00 à 1:04 - Dîner
> 
> Bloc 7 - 1:08 à 1:53 - Éducation physique - M. Green
> 
> Bloc 8 - 1:57 à 2:42 - Anglais - Mme. Carrol
> 
> Bloc 9 - 2:46 à 3:30 - Criminologie - M. Javert


End file.
